


a burning flame (as love and its decisive pain)

by ShamelesslyPoetic



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Boys Kissing, Fire, Fluff, Himbo Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Idiots in Love, Innuendo, Logan is there for the briefest laziest moment, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pray for him, Remus is mentioned, Roman nearly gets himself killed for a fish and Virgil is absolutely smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamelesslyPoetic/pseuds/ShamelesslyPoetic
Summary: “What were you even doing up so late?” Virgil asked, his tone falsely nonchalant.Roman shrugged warily, burning with embarrassment from the tips of his ears to his toes. “Does it really matter that much to you?”“Does it matter?” Virgil let out a harsh, incredulous laugh before his face twisted into its original rage. “Of course it fucking matters Roman your home just burned and you could have gone with it I wanna know what was so damn important-”“You!”What’s the best catalyst for admitting your feelings? Mortal danger. Roman would know.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	a burning flame (as love and its decisive pain)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my awesome beta reader, faemischief for doing line edits and being wonderful. Thanks to ace-corvid for providing the title from Sunlight by Hozier, and of course thank you to my lovely partner for their nonstop flood of support and praise. Love you, my moonbeam.
> 
> Warnings: a bunch of cursing and an innuendo. Lmk if I need to add anything else.

The moon in her high perch among the stars looked so beautiful that Roman thought he might actually cry. 

He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or his undying love for Virgil that made everything so unbearably pretty, but his glazed eyes filtered everything through a sort of shiny shimmer. 

From the way his lovesick heart grew helium-light any time that carved-from-marble skin brushed his, or the way he envisioned stormy gray eyes staring deep into him, or from the way his fingertips tingled as his head tipped back on a gulp of wine and he imagined what those punch pink lips would taste like, warmth pooling all over him at the very thought, Roman came to the thrilling conclusion that he was undeniably in love. 

Virgil’s gray eyes, like the pacing clouds, barely shone across the deep night sky, and the moonlight parting through them, stared back up at him from his phone screen where his hand hovered. 

He traced the curve of the picture’s cheek, over a knife-sharp jawline and pressed the call button. And then pressed it again. And again. And again. 

He didn’t care that the clock on his bedside glowed an angry red 2 am. He couldn’t wait a moment longer, or he’d burst right out of his skin. His ears rang with the force of his wild heartbeat and his whole body shook as he waited for the love of his life to pick up. 

He let the back of his head meet the headboard, his throat down the last of the wine and his eyes fall shut to the steady _beep-beeps_ of the phone. He wasn’t sleeping, just resting for a moment. He couldn’t fall asleep, after all, since the couscous still cooked away on the stove. Roman met Virgil’s dear face one more time and a small smile touched his lips. He closed his eyes.

Miles, fuck, _miles_ away from Roman’s house with his cat slinking after him, Virgil ran to his car, panic nipping at his heels. His foot trenched against a wheel and he yelped in frustration as he looked down at his phone. 

The missed calls accusingly glaring at him set an itch to his skin and a hitch to his breath. With enough exposure the choking gasps stuck in his throat would subside, they had to eventually. But not yet. Because Roman wouldn’t call that many times in a row, _twelve_ times, if he wasn’t in trouble. If he wasn’t in some mortal danger, about to be- No. No, he couldn’t let himself go that far. 

Virgil, in favour of letting his mind wander, huffed at Shadow, who insisted on accompanying him. 

Virgil sped through the nondescript streets, his anxiety ripping something fierce into his every twist and turn, edging his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel to painful as his thoughts spiralled out of control. 

He imagined Roman, brilliant brown eyes darting around in fear, he imagined him cramped under his bed as menacing footsteps crept closer and revealed the flash of a knife’s tip. He thought of him clutching the phone desperately, muffling his sobs and trying to call Virgil. Virgil who’d been _asleep_. Of all the nights to sleep at an acceptable hour! 

Guilt and dread churned his stomach into an oily, fearful mix and he pressed on the gas harder, heedless of Shadow’s started yowl. 

As the tall brick building holding Roman’s apartment came into view, Virgil slammed the breaks and killed the engine, dashing out. Tears writhed in his throat as he saw the parked red truck, already knowing on a fundamental, subconscious level the approaching disaster. And that’s when he saw the fire. 

Roman woke up to the sound of a screaming angel, a halo of bright light behind it, molding the planes of its beautiful face. 

“Roman!” it said his name, in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard. His alcohol-muddled mind stuttered in response even as his body was yanked forward and his mouth fell open with a gasp. 

Could the angel be taking him to heaven? Then why did it look so scared? 

Ink black hair bobbed, unruly and smooth at the same time like his love’s and starshimmer, silverstone, wood-smoke eyes looked at him urgently. 

“Vir-gil?” Roman slurred, his skin searing strangely at Virgil’s touch. But that was perfectly normal, just like the breathlessness, the strangled note to his voice, the hot blush, the smell of burning wood. Oh no. That one was definitely new. 

“Roman! Get up!” Virgil cried, his grip on Roman’s arm tightening. “Now. You need to get up _now_!”

And the last syllable snapped him into action, his body springing up as the blaze behind Virgil roared.

Roman barely had time to react to the situation beyond a distant corner of his mind registering the catalyst of it, an oversight on his part. His feet pounded down mechanically, following Virgil through hell like he always promised himself he would. 

The fire in front of him didn’t let up a single bit, its cruel orange ripping through the air. 

Virgil’s feet carried him forward through phantom screams of terror, a reliable force pulling as his heart tried to cleave its way out of his ribcage, his head pounding. The slide of their sweat made their joined hands far less pleasant than Roman remembered. 

So many things were wrong at that moment. He didn’t have his binder on, Virgil’s breath came in hitching gasps as well as his own and Ophelia-

“Virgil!” Roman shouted over the crackling, “Virgil, wait! Ophelia! She’ll be soup!”

“Are you joking, Roman?” Virgil glared back at him, incredulous and wild over the t-shirt blocking the smoke from his mouth. “Forget the stupid goldfish!”

“She’s not a goldfish!” 

Roman tried to slip out of Virgil’s reach, but the grip on his hand only tightened, pulling him along till he nearly tripped over his feet. Five more steps to the door, dodging the couch. Roman yanked sharply and Virgil’s hold faltered. 

“Roman! Roman what the fuck are you doing!?”

Roman’s elbow bumped Ophelia’s fish feed off the dining table as he reached for her bowl, hissing when the hot glass scalded his skin. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he searched around frantically. He grabbed a plastic cup and scooped Ophelia’s glittering orange body into it. 

Virgil snatched him, his nails a snare digging into his forearm. They both hurtled through the door, Virgil sending it slamming into the wall and taking the stairs two at a time as Roman stumbled after him with his free hand capped over the plastic cup to stop the water from spilling. 

They reached the landing and cold air barreled into Roman’s lungs, gulping down clear oxygen as fast as they could. Safe.

Roman barely had time to set Ophelia down before he was pulled forward. Though he’d decided he’d had his fair share of manhandling for the day, he didn’t mind. Especially not when his head connected with Virgil’s collarbone who wrapped his arms around him and wouldn’t let go, squeezing Roman so hard he thought his bones would snap. 

“Fuck,” Virgil rumbled and Roman could feel it from where his face pressed against the other’s chest. “Fuck, Roman, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Roman, for his part, hummed noncommittally, not quite ignoring the question but enjoying the contact while it lasted. He really didn’t want to let go. 

Virgil took care of the problem for him, rearing back and taking Roman’s face in his hands as he frantically checked him over. 

“God, I, please don’t cry!” 

Roman’s stinging eyes widened as he brought fingers up to his eyes, startling at the glistening patch on the back of his hand. Breathing out an “Oh”, he searched Virgil’s face, who just looked back at him miserably and held him in place. “Don’t,” he whispered, voice just as urgent. “Don’t look back, Roman, please.”

“Is everyone alright?” Roman croaked, voice gravelly from the smoke and still dumbfounded. 

“Yes, sir. We got everyone out in time,” a man in a red uniform -- a firefighter -- responded. 

Roman looked at all the people in their different types of bedwear hugging their loved ones close, ashen faces and scared eyes all around him.

He felt something bubbling in his throat, something on the edge of a regretful apology. Because he knew as sure as the adrenaline pumping his veins and the uncharacteristically red apples of Virgil’s cheeks, that the blame fell squarely on him.

On their way out, Romam’s words turned into a bitten off, hysterical laugh. And really, the look on Virgil’s face only served to make it worse. 

“What the _hell_ was that?” Virgil demanded. 

Roman’s laughter died. “Virgil I had to-”

“No!” Virgil cut him across. “Are you fucking _insane_? I’m trying to save your goddamn life, and you go back for a fish! What the fuck is your damage?”

“Hey-” Roman began, reaching out beseechingly. 

Virgil lurched back, hands curled into fists and eyes wild. “You could have fucking died!” His voice cracked, roughing around the edges as he screamed. “I could have lost you, you fucking idiot!”

“Virgil, it’s okay…” Roman tried again. 

“No it’s not! It’s not fucking okay!” People stared, and Roman’s guilt intensified. Virgil didn't even seem to notice, despite that Roman knew he was anxious and hated attention. He had to be really upset to disregard a crowd like that. 

Roman swallowed, Virgil’s agonized yells whips lashing his ears. “V, please.”

“Why do you keep doing things like this Roman huh?” Virgil ignored him, pacing. His feet stomped down on the ground, almost kicking at it as he snapped and gnashed his teeth. Roman couldn’t remember him ever being this angry. Not even when ranting about political and social injustice. 

“Is it on purpose, for attention? Have you _any_ self preservation?” Virgil dashed forward and suddenly he was looming over Roman. Roman thought a little hysterically that Virgil was going to slap him, but his hands just shook at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Roman wanted to reach for him and soothe the chafing ridges but he didn’t get the chance. 

“Don’t you get there are people who care about you, people that love you?” Virgil forced Roman’s eyes to his own. His voice lowered a little but came no less urgent until all at once it rose again in a desperate cry. “Don’t you care that I love you!?”

Roman froze. All the yelling must have done some permanent damage to his hearing. Everything came to a standstill, Roman’s ears drawing a sharp feedback loop. 

Virgil’s face caught up with his words and his expression twisted in on itself from shock that he surely saw mirrored in Roman to complete panic. “I’m sorry!” he spewed, gesturing with his hands at nothing. “Oh god I’m so sorry Roman! I shouldn’t have said that I wasn’t thinking.” The whiplash of his tone morphing into mournful and frenzied startled Roman. He blinked a couple of times, scrambling for words as Virgil’s came in a heated torrent. “It...you don’t have to answer that, obviously you don’t. I mean I’d never ask you.” He stumbled. “Could we - can we just ignore what I - _fuck_.” Virgil’s hands rose to wrench at his hair. 

Roman careened towards him. “Virgil!” 

Virgil’s eyes snapped to him and stopped, stock still up until Roman gentled his hands out of his hair. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Virgil’s face _crumpled. “_ I’m sorry,” he wheezed. 

“It’s alright,” said Roman, strangled. He wanted to tell Virgil he loved him too, so much, but he feared Virgil’s hyperventilation would only get worse. “It’s alright. In and out for me. You’re doing well.”

It took a few tries before Virgil’s whistling intakes of air settled into something somewhat steady. His breaths remained shallow but at least it was an improvement, Roman’s hands splayed against Virgil’s chest guiding him through the motions as Virgil timed his inhales and exhales to Roman’s own and held Roman’s fingers like a lifeline. 

“Excuse me?”

Before Roman could say anything someone cleared their throat behind them and Virgil leapt away from Roman, face flaming red.

Roman grinned and Virgil gave him a cutting glare before looking down, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

His smile unwavering as he turned to the firefighter, Roman nodded. “Yes?”

“The fire broke out in your apartment, sir,” he announced. 

Roman’s smile slipped from his face like water into a drain pipe.

“The police are here. Can you tell us what happened?”

Virgil furrowed his brows, tilting his head towards Roman questioningly. 

Roman swallowed hard. His skin itched. “I left the stove on and fell asleep.”

The firefighter’s lips pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes disapproving behind his thick rimmed glasses. “I see.”

Roman risked a glance at Virgil and was met with crossed arms and a viscous scowl.

“What were you even doing up so late?” Virgil asked, his tone falsely nonchalant. 

Roman bit the inside of his cheek. “Nothing.”

Virgil stepped forward, his jaw set and his lips quirked into a cold imitation of a smile. “No hey I want to know. Please, do tell.”

Roman shrugged warily, burning with embarrassment from the tips of his ears to his toes. “Does it really matter that much to you?”

“Does it _matter_?” Virgil let out a harsh, incredulous laugh before his face twisted into its original rage. 

Roman flinched. He opened his mouth to say something but Virgil’s snarling cut him off.

“Of course it fucking matters Roman your home just burned and you could have gone with it I wanna know what was so damn _important-_ ”

“You!” Roman blurted. 

And then immediately regretted it. 

His fingers knotted together, and he pawed at the ground with his foot like a schoolkid caught doing something wrong. Virgil was silent. Slowly, hesitantly, Roman brought his eyes up. 

Virgil stared, uncomprehending. “Me?” he repeated blankly. “What do you mean, me?”

“I love you too,” Roman said helplessly, hurling headfirst into something scarier than the fire. “I’ve loved you since our freshman year of college.”

Virgil’s breath hitched, his eyes wide. “Roman, you, you don’t have to lie, you know I can’t stand pity-”

“No I really do!” Roman bolted forward, taking Virgil’s hands into his own and repeating fervently, “I love you, Virgil. With all my heart.”

Virgil’s face tinted crimson. “I, what does that have to do with-?” 

Roman let go and stepped back, but his eyes remained locked on Virgil’s. “I’d drank one too many and, and I was staring up at the moon because it had the colour of your eyes and it was so, so pretty.” He smiled. “You’re so pretty.”

The blush on Virgil’s cheeks deepened, Roman delighting in it. “Ro…” 

“And it just hit me,” Roman confessed, smiling still. “All at once. I needed to tell you. Couldn’t wait another day, another second.”

Virgil’s eyes searched Roman’s face. “Those dozen missed calls…?” 

Roman nodded sheepishly. “I understand if you’d like to go back on your confession now-”

Before the last word left Roman’s mouth Virgil had caught it in his own. Swallowing away the surprised noise Roman let out, Virgil pulled him close by the waist.

Slowly, Roman’s tense shoulders unknotted and he leaned into the press of their lips. Coffee candies against Roman’s tongue. Chasing the taste, he rose on the tip of his toes. His hands trembled as they cupped Virgil’s face. Soft under his fingertips. Roman brushed over Virgil’s cheeks carefully, holding them like nectarine, like they’d bruise if he pressed too much. Virgil had the complete reverse attitude, frantic as he kissed the breath from Roman’s lungs and his fingers seeked across Roman’s back. Roman shivered under the attention and Virgil broke away, letting out a short breath just this side of overwhelmed.

Virgil’s eyes were wide and surprised, almost like he was shocked at himself.

“I thought you were about to get murdered!” he cried out, his voice brittle as he fisted his bangs away from his face. 

Roman, a little dazed and maybe just a touch disappointed, gave a slow smile. “My yearning for you is a deadly force. Ophelia can attest.”

They’d forgotten the world around them, heedless of the late night, the distressed people in clusters, the sound of cars and sirens. They all melted into one hazy background and all Roman could focus on was the man in front of him. 

He felt suspended in a timeless bubble, a floaty lightness filling his chest. A part of him suggested that he should probably be panicking, wondering if he had enough insurance to cover everything but his heart was singing a thrumming note in his ears and as his frame shook with barely-contained mirth he found he didn’t care. 

How many days, weeks, months had Roman envisioned this? Virgil in front of him all flustered and cute and the two of them at long last professing their feelings. 

So in front of a fire truck wasn’t exactly what Roman had dreamt up, so what? They were here weren’t they?

“You’re an idiot,” Virgil deadpanned, somewhat dulled by the heavy rise and fall of his ribcage. 

“Your idiot,” Roman replied coyly.

“Oh you little-” Virgil shook his head. “ _You’re_ gonna be the death of _me_ if you don’t get yourself killed first I swear.” The breathless quality of Virgil’s voice overshadowed his annoyance and soon enough he softened, taking a hesitant step towards Roman. “Ro, could you-?”

A lump rose in Roman’s throat and he smiled around it, opening his arms. 

Virgil was taller than him so the angle was a little awkward, Virgil hunching to hide in Roman’s chest. “I can’t deal with you. You make me care about you and then you go do, you go and do things like this-” His voice choked up and Roman’s heart stuttered as Virgil made clinging fists in the back of Roman’s shirt. “And you, you…” His voice tapered off on a sob and Roman rubbed his back. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “I’m here.” 

Virgil sobbed again, his arms winding around Roman’s shoulders as Roman felt moisture creeping on his neck.

“I’m right here, Virgil,” Roman repeated. Virgil shuddered and held him tighter. “I’m okay. I’m safe. You saved me.”

“I love you,” Virgil rasped, shifting until he’d gathered Roman against him. 

“I love you too,” Roman whispered, his cheek pressed to Virgil’s thumping heartbeat. 

“Ro, please, you have to be more careful.” Virgil took Roman’s face into his hands to emphasize his point, looking him in the eye. “Y-You have to, especially if…I just, I love you too much for my own good and I can’t be your boyfriend if I’m scared you could get yourself killed at any second-”

“So you _do_ wanna be my boyfriend,” Roman teased as he held Virgil’s wrist and tilted his face into the warmth of his palm, smiling. “Took you long enough to admit it, emo nightmare.”

Virgil’s eyes hardened as he pushed away from Roman, growling. “Fuck you.”

Roman giggled, delighted as he languidly draped his arms around Virgil’s neck and looked at him through his eyelashes. “That’s the goal, yes.” 

Virgil’s cheeks turned from crimson to a deep scarlet. Still glaring, his hands came up to Roman’s hips. “Fuck _this,_ I’m dropping you off at Remus’s.” 

Roman shot up and pressed their lips together once more, giggling as Virgil huffed. To prove his point but mostly because he was a brat who coincidentally happened to be high on love, Roman nipped Virgil’s lower lip. 

“You sure about that?” he asked sweetly, before sealing their lips together again, deepening their kiss. 

Virgil broke away, a low groan at the back of his throat. He tilted his head back, eyes closed as he murmured helplessly. “You’re the worst and I hate you.”

Roman hugged Virgil’s shoulders as he cooed in his ear. “You love me.”

Virgil opened his eyes, scowling. “Hate. You.”

“You love me,” Roman corrected again, softer. 

Virgil nodded, his expression turning achingly tender. He dropped a kiss to the crown of Roman’s head, nuzzling. Something dripped into Roman’s hair and Roman regretted poking fun. He wanted to ease Virgil, tell him everything was okay but found he couldn’t quite speak. 

After a long moment Virgil pulled back. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, gaze intent on Roman. “If you think you’re going _anywhere-_ ”

Roman gently took his hand. “Don’t worry Virge I’m all yours tonight.”

Virgil sniffed. His nose was red, eyes puffy and cheeks tracked with gray eyeshadow. He was the most beautiful thing Roman had ever seen. 

“Damn right you are,” breathed Virgil.

Roman smiled smugly, raising Virgil’s hand up to kiss the back of it. “Something you’d like to tell me babe?”

“Yes.” Despite the obvious flush on his face Virgil gave Roman an unimpressed look. “Remus would be _very_ proud of you right now.”

Barring that, his brother would probably kill him for almost getting himself turned into crispy chicken and he’d hug him so hard he’d crack a rib.

Roman squawked indignantly. Virgil merely responded by retreating to his car. Roman ducked and grabbed Ophelia’s cup, following him, when his eyes fell on Virgil’s black cat. The cat titled his head at Roman, eyes shining yellow and hungry. 

Roman rushed to the backseat and prayed for an open pet shop. 

***

Much to Virgil’s dismay, at 4 am there was indeed an open pet shop that Roman frantically pointed out. 

Virgil beeped all the while it took Roman to purchase a new bowl for his goldfish, because Virgil couldn’t care less about the exact variety of fish she was, and fish feed. Roman chattered incessantly over half the way there, some of his speech jumbled and inarticulate with exhaustion and most of it serenading Virgil. Virgil paid attention to every word even at the risk of overheating. 

They nearly crashed when Shadow leapt into the backseat, and Virgil had to pull him away from Roman so he wouldn’t devour the damn fish. Thankfully both Shadow and Roman fell asleep afterwards. 

Virgil appreciated the quiet, even as his mind tormented him with the fact Roman would probably wake up with a spectacular hangover, or at the very least a headache.

But he was finally home. Virgil pulled into his driveway and went practically boneless with relief. He couldn’t believe he’d made it in one piece. It had been a long night. 

Virgil roused Roman so they could carry the bowl to Virgil’s top shelf where Shadow hopefully wouldn’t be able to reach and tend to some of the minor burns Roman had procured. Mostly on his palms and a little on his cheeks. He was half asleep already by the time Virgil cleaned his face of the smoke-dust and carried him to his bed. 

Roman got very cuddly when he was sleepy and Virgil knew that from previous experience. He tabled calling Remus and telling him about what happened for later as Roman clung to his waist and nuzzled into his back. 

“Relax,” Virgil said fondly. “I’m just gonna get us some water.”

Roman looked up at him with wide eyes that pleaded for Virgil not to leave for long and Virgil couldn’t even be embarrassed when he took the space from his room to his kitchen in two strides. 

Virgil returned to find Roman spread across the mattress, limbs hanging and tangled in the sheets. Virgil sighed and roused him once more to give him the water and a granola bar. Roman ate only half of it before batting Virgil’s hand away like a child and making grabby hands. 

Virgil obliged him, wrapping his arms around Roman as Roman burrowed into his chest and tangled their legs together. 

“Mmnight, V,” Roman mumbled. 

“Goodnight, Ro,” Virgil replied, pulling the blanket over them. 

Roman shifted, breathing so softly Virgil barely caught his words. “Love you.”

Virgil swallowed around the lump in his throat, looked down at Roman’s face, at his closed eyes and slightly parted lips, and stroked his hair. 

“I love you too,” he croaked. He wasn’t sure if Roman had heard it but he _did_ nuzzle closer. 

Virgil shut off his bedside lamp and willed the dark to pull him under. 

Roman was restless, and Virgil convinced himself that was why he couldn’t sleep. In reality, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of Roman. He was too afraid that if he did Roman would disappear. Vanish into thin air or blow like ashes into the wind if Virgil so much as _blinked_.

So Virgil whiled away the hours as deep navy inched to gray mist outside, tracing across the red thistle-sized scrapes peppering Roman’s face, listening to Roman’s even breaths and checking for his pulse. Slow and steady. Alive. 

A wet sob gurgled in Virgil’s chest but he contained it so as not to wake Roman up. His arms tightened around Roman’s waist and Roman whined slightly in his sleep, rolling over to face Virgil. In apology Virgil pressed a handful of kisses against Roman’s forehead, closing his eyes as he pressed his palm flat to Roman’s chest, listening for Roman’s heartbeat. _Ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump._

Virgil relaxed, limbs melting and head sinking heavily into the pillow. He closed his eyes. 

A muffled clatter sounded outside and Virgil shot up. He rushed into the hallway where Shadow was trying to pounce onto the bookshelf. Irritated, Virgil shooed him away more sharply than he normally would and locked the fish bowl in the kitchen. 

He returned to his room and fitted himself around Roman, any chance of sleep long gone. With Roman’s solid warmth pressed against his chest, Virgil couldn’t really find it in himself to complain. 

Roman was here in his arms. Roman was safe. That was all that mattered. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff, cause what’s coming next certainly isn’t ;)
> 
> Kudos and comments. Give them and I’ll give you my literal anatomical heart in return. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @shamelesslypoetic. Remember to drink your loving Roman juice ❤
> 
> -Elise xoxo


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